Truth in Action
by tridget
Summary: The Doranda disaster was just the beginning of trouble for Rodney.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** **Truth in Action**  
**Author:** **tridget**  
**Genre:** Gen, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Friendship  
**Rating:** PG  
**Warnings:** Occasional language.  
**Spoilers:** "Trinity"  
**Word Count:** ~13,600  
**Prompt:** Written for the **sheps_atlantis** 1st Quarterly Ficathon at Livejournal for **linziday** who wanted Rodney completely run down (emotionally, physically or both), team fun, and a Rodney and Ronon friendship moment.  
**Summary:** The Doranda disaster was just the beginning of trouble for Rodney.  
**Notes:** Thank you to **wildcat88** for such patient and thorough guidance and for suggesting I 'gamble' with the team fun scene.

* * *

**Truth in Action**

**Chapter One**

John leaned over the console in the control room, his knuckles white where he gripped the panel. "McKay? McKay! Answer me, dammit!"

There was no response, but a look at the jumper's trajectory on the view screen told John all he needed to know. "McKay! Pull up! For God's sake, pull up!"

Then the dot of light that was the jumper hit the ground...and winked out.

For a second, John couldn't breathe. He felt as though he'd slammed into the ground himself. Then, he took off at a run for the Jumper Bay.

********************

_Four days earlier..._

There was a moment each morning when Rodney awoke in which everything was the same as it always had been. Then reality came rushing in like a tidal wave. Each day, the wave seemed to hit harder than it had the day before. Rodney wondered if the wave would eventually hit him hard enough that he wouldn't be able to get out of bed at all. He thought it might. But today wasn't the day.

Rodney tossed aside his covers. He stared at the ceiling, taking deep breaths, steeling himself for the day ahead. Then he forced himself to get up. He had a plan. The plan wouldn't fix what had happened. Screw-ups of that magnitude could never be undone. But the plan might just put the world, his world, back on track again. The only problem was that the plan required a lot of Rodney's time and energy and both were in very short supply right now. It seemed like they had been vaporized along with 5/6 of a solar system.

_It was odd,_ Rodney thought as he staggered to the shower. He'd always believed recognition of his scientific genius meant more to him than anything. Yet now, he realized, the thought that he might never be nominated for a Nobel Prize wasn't quite as devastating as he'd expected. It didn't make his stomach ache, didn't make his throat feel so tight he could hardly swallow, and it didn't make his thoughts swirl so chaotically that he couldn't think during the day and couldn't sleep at night - not the way losing Sheppard's trust did.

The shower rendered Rodney only marginally more alert. Coffee. He needed coffee. Rodney dressed hastily and then headed out of his quarters in search of his personal fuel supply. He thought that maybe once he'd had enough coffee, he'd feel up to starting on the restoration plan.

********************

With an anxious glance at the life signs detector, Rodney scurried along the corridor, grateful that it was empty for the time being. Shafts of light spilled into the hallway from an open doorway, marking his destination as being mere meters away. Rodney's heart raced uncomfortably. He toyed briefly with the idea of scrapping his plan altogether because the whole notion was making him feel jittery and lightheaded. Then again, maybe it was his hypoglycemia kicking in.

When he arrived at the entranceway to the auxiliary weapons storage room, Rodney paused to recheck his LSD, confirming that one person still occupied the space. If his plan was on track, it would be the right person. He tucked the LSD away carefully, noticing that his hands were trembling and his palms were sweating so much that he had to wipe them off on his jacket. Maybe he needed something to eat first. A quick search of his pockets yielded a small stash of Power Bars. Rodney selected one and proceeded to unwrap it. The foil seemed to crinkle deafeningly, shattering his stealthy silence. _Damn._ Rodney jammed the bar into his mouth quickly. Crumbs tumbled down his shirt as he tried to chew and swallow the overly large bites.

Once the bar had been consumed, Rodney took a deep breath and poked his head around the open doorway. "Major Lorne!" Rodney hailed. "What a surprise running into you here."

"Doctor McKay." Lorne gave a brief nod of acknowledgement. "I don't know that it's much of surprise that I'm here. I was assigned to ordnance inventory."

"True. True. Good point. But...but that we should _both_ be here...at the same time is...is an unexpected pleasure." Rodney was trying for a casually jovial manner and failing miserably. And he was all too painfully aware of that fact. Tugging nervously at the neckline of his shirt, he bumbled on. "Well, now that, ah...circumstance has...you know...brought us here, together, maybe we should take advantage of this time." Rodney cringed, feeling that his approach was taking him nowhere at the speed of light.

"Ooookay," Lorne agreed with a bemused expression on his face.

"The thing is..." Rodney began and then faltered as he glanced over his shoulder. "Actually, maybe I should shut the door for, ah...for a little privacy."

"Privacy?"

"Yes. You never know when someone might decide to take a walk along this hallway, and then boom! There goes your privacy." Rodney closed the door to the room as he babbled.

"You never know," Lorne repeated in agreement. "After all, you just took a walk down here. Who knows when someone else might have the same idea?"

"Exactly!" Rodney declared. But he had a nagging feeling that Lorne was humoring him. "So...how's it going...your inventory...every last bullet present and accounted for?"

"Not yet. I'm still taking inventory," Lorne replied as he gestured to his laptop on the table. "That's why I'm still here."

"Ah, yes. Also a very, _very_ good point." Rodney chuckled nervously.

"Doctor McKay, I don't-"

"Rodney. You can call me Rodney."

"Rodney," Lorne conceded, "I don't have a lot of time right now. Maybe you should cut to the chase and tell me how you wanted to spend our few minutes of private time together."

"What?" Rodney frowned as he processed that. "Oh! Oh, no. That's not... I didn't mean... No. I wasn't suggesting that..." He felt the color rise in his face. "Did you think that...?"

"I wasn't thinking anything." Lorne looked like he was putting a lot of effort into not laughing.

"Oh. You're just pulling my leg," Rodney laughed weakly.

Lorne grinned. "Doctor McK...Rodney, what do you want?"

"Flying lessons," Rodney blurted. "I want flying lessons. I want to learn to fly a puddlejumper."

Lorne's eyebrows rose in surprise. "I thought Colonel Sheppard was providing you with instruction."

"He is...but...I'm...I'm not very good at it."

"You'll get better with practice."

"Right. So, I'd like you to give me more opportunities to practice."

Lorne narrowed his eyes. "Does Colonel Sheppard know that you were planning on asking me for lessons?"

"Oh. Was I supposed to ask him first? I... No." Rodney shook his head. "He doesn't know."

"When were you going to tell him?"

"Soon. Very soon. Well, as soon as I can fly in a straight line. Maybe I'll just, you know, surprise him one day."

"I see... Rodney, I don't think that-"

"Please. It's really important." Rodney hated sounding desperate. But the fact was that he _was_ desperate.

Lorne sighed. "I understand all about wanting to perform well for your CO. Okay. A few lessons. Against my better judgment."

"Great!" Rodney clenched his hands victoriously. "How about six a.m. tomorrow?"

"I was under the impression you didn't get up at 0600 without duress."

"Sheppard runs with Ronon at that time," Rodney admitted sheepishly. "He'll be occupied."

"Ah. So we'll have more of our, you know, 'private time.'" Lorne made quotation marks in the air and winked at Rodney."

Rodney huffed and shook his head. "You're never going to let me live that one down are you?"

"Not any time soon," Lorne admitted, laughing.

********************

Lorne checked his watch. "You're three minutes late."

"I know. I'm sorry. I'm really, _really_ sorry." Rodney was still straightening his shirt and tugging on his jacket as he bustled into the Jumper Bay.

"Timing and precision are essential to being a good pilot."

"I won't be late again. I promise. I'll...I'll invent some sort of super alarm clock to wake me up without fail in the future."

"Just don't stay up late working on it. You need to be alert and focused to fly well."

"Alert and focused. Got it," Rodney nodded. "Speaking of which, I don't suppose I could have a minute to grab a coffee?"

"No."

_Damn,_ Rodney thought, wondering how he would summon the energy for the lesson ahead.

"Are you sure you're ready to go through with this?" Lorne asked pointedly.

Rodney squared his shoulders, trying to rally himself. "Absolutely."

"Let's get on with it then." Lorne stepped through the open hatch of the waiting jumper.

********************

"Jesus, McKay!" Lorne blew out the breath he'd been holding while bracing himself for the narrowly avoided impact.

"Look, I told you I'm not good at this." Sweat trickled down the sides of Rodney's face as he struggled to guide the jumper back on course.

"I know, but Colonel Sheppard never told me just how ba-" Lorne cut himself off. "Colonel Sheppard never mentioned the extent of your...difficulties."

Rodney bit back a retort. He might have quit the lessons then and there, except the stakes were so high. He had a lot to lose. Correction. He'd already lost it. He was trying to win it back.

Switching seats with Lorne for the landing back in Atlantis, Rodney sank into the co-pilot's chair, his face burning with embarrassment. He rolled his shoulders to try to alleviate the increasing muscle tension and the headache threatening to blossom behind his eyes. He knew he was feeling the effects of his early morning rise, hunger and lack of coffee. The coffee and breakfast problem he'd be able to remedy in a few minutes. Maybe he could squeeze in a nap in the afternoon. But there was still the whole Doranda mess. Rodney sighed. There was no quick fix for that.

"Same time, same place, tomorrow?" Rodney asked hopefully as he and Lorne exited the jumper.

"We'll give it another shot, but next time, try not to kill us both," Lorne shot over his shoulder as he strode away.

_Try not to kill us both._ The phrase struck Rodney even harder than the wave that crashed over him every morning. _Shit._ He had almost done it again. Rodney felt the blood rush from his head as his legs started to tremble. He sat down heavily on the jumper ramp. It was ten minutes before he had recovered enough to make his way to the cafeteria. And for some reason, he really didn't feel all that hungry anymore.

********************

"Hey, there." Rodney forced out a hearty greeting as he deposited his breakfast tray on the table and sat down.

Ronon paused in the midst of shoveling a forkful of sausage into his mouth. He glanced around before returning his eyes to rest on Rodney. "You talkin' to me?"

"Yes. Yes, I am. I just wanted to say...um...good morning." Rodney took several gulps of his coffee then sat back, closing his eyes as he waited for the caffeine to flow through his system.

They ate in silence for a few minutes.

"You're up early," Ronon mumbled around a mouthful of pancake.

"Am I?" Rodney squeaked a little. "Well, you know what they say."

"No. I don't."

"It's...ah...it's never too early to get up." Rodney winced. _Lame. Very lame,_ he chided himself.

Ronon appeared to ponder that bit of Earth wisdom for a moment and then shrugged, returning to his muffin. "You just missed Sheppard."

"Good. I didn't want to see him."

Ronon raised an eyebrow.

"I mean, I would have wanted to see him if I had something to see him about, but I don't, so..." Rodney frowned for a moment before being overcome by a gaping yawn which he chased away with a few more swallows of his coffee. "I have to get a refill," he stated as he stood. _The early morning rise for flying practice was a poor idea,_ he thought as he refilled his mug. But probably not as poor as what he was about to do.

There was a brief lull in the cafeteria traffic when Rodney returned to his seat. It was now or never. He took a deep breath. "I've been thinking..."

"That's unfortunate," Ronon deadpanned.

"Very funny." Rodney sighed. "Look, the thing is, I'm not quite as good as you are with guns." He paused while Ronon choked on a helping of hash browns. "I thought maybe we could take in a bit of target practice together."

"I don't need any practice."

"No. No. I wasn't implying you needed practice."

"Good."

Rodney tugged at his shirt, already damp with perspiration although the day had barely started. "But I was thinking you might enjoy some practice. Practice can be fun, right? Even when you don't _need_ it."

Ronon shrugged. "Paper targets don't do it for me." His eyes took on a menacing look as he leaned toward Rodney. "But if I had a _live_ target to practice on..."

The slight shake in Rodney's hand caused him to spill a spoonful of cereal down his shirt. "Well, don't look at me," he yelped as he dabbed at the milk stains with a napkin.

"Yeah. Guess not," Ronon said regretfully. "I like my targets moving faster." He grinned.

Losing patience, Rodney tossed down his napkin. "Are you going to help me or not?"

"Yeah. I'll help."

"Good." Rodney opened his laptop and consulted his schedule. Sheppard practiced stick fighting with Teyla at three. "How about today at three o'clock?"

"Fine," said Ronon as he got up to leave.

"Fine," said Rodney, simultaneously relieved to have crossed another hurdle but overwhelmingly fatigued at the thought of the tasks to come.

********************

Rodney prepared his next speech all the way to the lab - not that preparation ever seemed to make conversations flow any smoother.

"Alright, Zelenka. I've already apologized and you have graciously accepted. You've also proven yourself to have an admirable level of self-restraint these past few days. But let's not delay the inevitable any longer. So...just go ahead and say it." Rodney thrust out his chin, bracing himself.

"Say what?" Radek looked up, his mouth slightly agape.

"'I told you so.' Go on. Say it. Say it and get it over with. That way we can be done with it and it's out of the way." Rodney made a dismissive gesture with his hands.

Radek pushed his glasses up with one finger. "That is not something I have been wanting to say."

"Well, you must want to say something. I'm sure you've been gloating silently for days. Maybe you want to say 'I was right, and you were wrong.' Something like that. So, just say it and then we can move on."

"I am not you, Rodney. I have not been gloating and I have no need to point out that I was correct."

"Well, what _do_ you want to say about it then?"

"You should have at least seriously considered my input."

Rodney gritted his teeth. Turning over a new leaf was going to kill him. "Fine. In the future, I will try to take what you have to say into consideration." He practically choked on the words.

"Thank you," said Radek. He turned and pulled up a series of charts and calculations on his computer. "Now, we need to run the simulation for the new power distribution plan."

"I know what we have to do," Rodney snapped. "Hello. Head of Department here."

"I thought you were going to make an effort to listen to what I had to say."

"Not if it's redundant."

"What is not redundant, then, is to say that the simulation was to have been run yesterday."

"I know that too. I just think it behooves us to recheck the plan."

"Again? We rechecked it twice last night. Rodney, it is only a simulation. I think we are ready to run it."

"Don't tell me when my project is ready to go. I'll decide that and I say it is _not_ ready to go." Rodney's head pounded as though his blood pressure were rising.

"But-"

"I'll tell you what. I'll listen to what you have to say, but only after I ask you to say it, and right now, I am not asking to hear you say anything."

Radek tossed his hands in the air and wandered away, muttering to himself in Czech.

Rodney watched Radek's retreat and then rummaged in a drawer for the acetaminophen Carson had given him two days ago. He tossed back the last two pills, hoping they'd take effect soon because he had a lot of calculations to recheck. Better safe than sorry.

********************

The calculations took much longer than Rodney had anticipated. Maybe it was because of the damned headache which the acetaminophen had barely touched. And the headache was worse, because he hadn't realized just how long his work was taking. So, he'd lost track of time and missed lunch.

Radek wordlessly plopped a sandwich down on Rodney's desk sometime mid-afternoon. Ravenous, Rodney wolfed down the first half, but held off on the second half when he started to feel vaguely nauseated. Besides that, it was just about time for his target practice with Ronon.

********************

Target practice went only marginally better than the flying lessons.

The first shot went wide - really wide.

Ronon tipped his head, studying the space between the target and the spot where Rodney's bullet had struck. "What were you aiming for?"

"I was visualizing two Wraith approaching and I just took out the one over to the right. I left the other one for you." Rodney's reply dripped with sarcasm.

Ronon scowled at Rodney which effectively cut off any further excuses. "Try again." He watched closely as Rodney aimed.

The second shot was no closer to the target.

"Might help if you keep your eyes open when you shoot."

"Brilliant. I never would have thought of that," Rodney grumbled. But he backed down when Ronon fingered the blaster at his side. Maybe Ronon hadn't totally abandoned the idea of a bit of live target practice.

It wasn't long before the weight of the weapon made Rodney's shoulders feel as if they were on fire and the tendons in his wrist protest in pain. "I can't do this anymore." Rodney put the P90 down.

"Quittin's not one of the options when your life's on the line."

"I'm not quitting. Research shows that _short,_ frequent practice is best for improving skills."

"I've found that being about to die is best for improving your skills."

Rodney gave an anxious laugh, not certain whether or not his newest teammate was joking. When Ronon didn't crack even the tiniest smile, Rodney picked up the gun again. _This plan really sucks,_ he thought to himself.

********************

After dinner, Rodney headed back to his quarters, looking forward to a long, hot soak in his bathtub. He loved the bathtub. In his opinion, the bathtubs were _the_ greatest luxury on Atlantis. They weren't at all like the narrow water-saving trough that passed for a bath in his old apartment. That tub was so narrow that he had to wedge himself into it. And the water conservation design allowed for a depth that was barely more enjoyable than soaking in a puddle. The ample tubs on Atlantis, on the other hand, were pure bliss.

Between the hour-long soak in the tub and the ibuprofen Rodney obtained in the infirmary when the acetaminophen ran out, the worst of the headache and the aches and pains of the day dissipated. But the ache inside persisted. No amount of hot water could ease Rodney's fear that he had screwed up his entire career on Atlantis. No amount of hot water could stave off the chill of his vision of being shipped back to Siberia. No amount of hot water could erase the image of Sheppard giving him the cold shoulder at dinner.

********************

When Rodney woke the next morning, the wave hit harder than the day before. He felt it crushing him, pinning him to the bed. After yesterday's resounding lack of success, Rodney's plan didn't offer him quite the same degree of hope anymore. It had lost some of its power to force him out of bed. He debated giving up once again, but he had everything to lose...or gain. With a weary sigh, Rodney persuaded himself to give it another try.

********************

"What do you not understand about the concept of a straight line?" Lorne stared at the clearly not-straight line on the HUD.

"I'm trying!" Rodney shot back. "The problem is that I never think in a straight line. Never. My mind is a very, very complex place."

"Are you suggesting that good jumper pilots have simple minds?"

"No. I... No. Not at all. Pilots are..." Rodney glanced over at Lorne. It was hard to tell if the major was insulted or was toying with him again. With Sheppard, on the other hand... Well, Sheppard wasn't here right now.

Rodney steeled himself and poured all the focus he could muster into the flying exercises. By the end of the session, he'd flown in something resembling a series of jagged lightning bolts. Not great. Not even good, really. But it was better than yesterday.

What wasn't better was Rodney's headache. Maybe it was the two cups of coffee before six a.m. that had reawakened the beast. Maybe it was the late breakfast again. Maybe it was the monumental effort required to contain his mental processes in a straight line. Probably it was a combination of all three.

********************

The headache was making Rodney feel queasy again. By the time he reached the cafeteria, breakfast seemed much less appealing than he had anticipated.

Rodney selected coffee and plain toast.

Ronon looked at Rodney as he sat down. "You grabbed someone else's tray by mistake?"

"Very funny. Not."

"Are you feeling ill?" Teyla asked. "You look pale."

"Could everyone just mind their own breakfast?" Rodney snapped.

Teyla acquiesced with a nod, but Rodney felt her sneaking concerned looks at him throughout the meal.

Rodney sneaked concerned looks at his hands which he kept hidden below the table as much as possible. He couldn't stop them from shaking. Maybe this cup of coffee, his third already this morning, was too much. He knew his stomach certainly wasn't too happy about it. He thought about eating some more food to absorb all the coffee sloshing around in his gut, but was vaguely worried that the whole mess might slosh its way back out of his stomach.

Rodney's musing about his breakfast was cut short when Radek radioed him. Rodney tapped his earpiece. "Zelenka, if you tell me the power levels are dropping on the redistribution simulation, I'll...I'll...I don't know what I'll do, but it _won't_ be pleasant."

There was a pause before Radek replied, his words obviously carefully chosen. _"The power levels are not rising and they are not holding steady."_

_Damn._ "I'll be right there."

********************

While the morning's jumper practice might have been said to result in some progress – if you squinted sideways at the outcome – the same couldn't be said for the weapons practice.

Rodney's arms ached so badly that they shook almost constantly. He swiped his hand across his eyes trying to clear his vision which he swore was beginning to blur. His concentration was off because his mind kept running the equations from the still malfunctioning simulation.

In the end, Ronon suggested he put Rodney out of his misery with the blaster.

********************

Rodney was just sinking into the tub when Elizabeth radioed him. "Doctor McKay, we were supposed to meet to discuss the power supply issue."

_Crap._ He'd forgotten. "Yes. Yes, I'm on my way right now." With a sigh, Rodney shut off the taps. Redressing in his uniform took longer than usual due to the ache in his arms. He grabbed a cup of coffee along the way and hurried to the meeting with Elizabeth.

Five minutes into his rapidly delivered scientific dissertation, Elizabeth interrupted. She leaned forward, narrowing her eyes and wrinkling her brow, her face a mixture of curiosity and concern. "Rodney, are you aware that your shirt is on inside out?"

"What?" Rodney tugged at and studied his shirt, noting with chagrin the unmistakable seams on the outside. "I...uh...I had a stain on it and I thought this would...this would cut down on laundry, which would in turn cut down on power consumption across the city." Rodney smiled, somewhat pleased that he had managed to turn this gaffe around – or so he thought.

"I see." The tight look on Elizabeth's face indicated she clearly didn't buy the explanation. She shook her head slightly as though refocusing herself. "So, the bottom line is that we are about two days behind schedule?"

"It's Zelenka's fault," Rodney blurted.

Elizabeth raised a hand to silence the excuse. "I want an analysis of the current problems with the project and a revised timeline on my desk by tomorrow morning."

Rodney bit his lip, thinking for a moment. "I'm not sure that-"

"Will that be a problem?"

Rodney's first impulse was to say that it would, but he reined himself in, knowing he'd never regain his reputation that way. "No. Not a problem. Tomorrow morning. I'm on it."

"Thank you." Elizabeth nodded curtly.

********************

Rodney rubbed his eyes tiredly as he dropped into the chair in front of his computer. He had a chance to redeem himself in Elizabeth's eyes and he was screwing it up big time. Sheppard would hear about it and... With a sigh, Rodney reached into his desk and took another couple of ibuprofen. His head felt like it was being squeezed in a vise.

Fueled with several cups of coffee, Rodney worked through the early hours of the morning until the simulation problem was fixed, and then he headed back to his quarters. Exhausted, he dropped onto his bed without even undressing. But he couldn't sleep. Too much coffee, too much to do, too much thinking...

In the morning... Well, in the morning it wasn't so hard to wake up because he hadn't even fallen asleep yet.

During the jumper practice, Lorne said Rodney flew about as well as a dodo bird.

********************

Rodney's thoughts were skittering away from him. He needed to rein them in, needed to focus. He'd battled with them all afternoon and lost. The goddamn headache had won again. More coffee was out of the question because he'd just finished throwing up today's caffeine consumption along with his lunch – if he'd eaten lunch – Rodney wasn't sure about that. But he was sure that he definitely didn't want dinner right now. He splashed cold water on his face and shuffled over to his bed, dimming the lights as he went. When he reached the bed, he flopped down on it and curled up, shivering. He'd have pulled the blanket out from underneath himself and wrapped it around his body, but that required too much energy.

********************

Rodney woke up again three or four hours later, feeling slightly better, except that he was starving and lightheaded. He decided to head down to the cafeteria. Dinner would be over, but there was always something available.

Shuffling through the hallway lost in thought, Rodney startled when he heard his name being called. _Crap. Sheppard._ The last person he wanted to see right now.

"McKay..." Sheppard approached with a brief smile. "I've been trying to catch up with you for two days now. Where the heck have you been?"

"I've been very busy," Rodney replied tightly. "You know, you didn't have to waste time looking for me. We have radios."

"Yeah, I know." Sheppard rubbed one hand awkwardly over the back of his neck. "I just -"

"I'm still very busy. What do you want?"

"Well...nothing specific, really..."

"Always a good reason to waste two days looking for someone." Rodney saw the muscles in Sheppard's jaw tense and twitch in response to the snarky remark. _This is going well. Not._

Sheppard was obviously pissed off now. "McKay, have you learned anything, anything at all in the last week or so?"

"Learned anything. Funny. Kind of ironic choice of words for this week." Rodney laughed briefly, feeling a bit giddy. He _really_ needed to eat something.

The ticked-off look on Sheppard's face was replaced with one of concern. "Are you okay? You don't look so good."

"I'm fine, thank you very much, _Doctor_ Sheppard," Rodney spat sardonically. He had a sense that his moods were about as much beyond his control as his thoughts had been earlier, but he couldn't seem to pull together the energy to care about that. Too much work and not enough sleep... Maybe too much coffee... He really needed to chill out... Maybe he should take up meditation or relaxation... Maybe Teyla could help with that...

"McKay? McKay!"

"What?" Rodney suddenly became aware that he was still in the hallway talking to Sheppard.

"I was saying, maybe you should let Carson take a look at you."

Rodney snapped his fingers. "You know what? I just remembered that I was so busy this afternoon that I missed dinner. I must be having a hypoglycemic reaction. I need to get something to eat. I'll be fine after I eat." Rodney spun away and headed to the cafeteria. He felt Sheppard's eyes on his back all the way down the hall.

********************

Rodney grabbed a sandwich and then headed off to find Teyla. While he walked, Rodney unwrapped his sandwich and took a few bites, but it made his stomach turn. He dumped what was left in a wastebasket on the way by.

Checking his watch, Rodney noted that his timing was good. Teyla would be getting ready to start her meditation in a few minutes.

"Teyla!" Rodney called, catching up with her just outside her quarters.

"Rodney." Teyla tipped her head in greeting.

"Look, I'm sorry I snapped at you at breakfast. I...I haven't been sleeping very well and-"

"It is alright. Think nothing of it." Teyla smiled warmly. "Perhaps you should seek Doctor Beckett's assistance."

Rodney felt a flash of irritation at the suggestion but managed to control his response this time. "I'll consider that. In the meantime, I was wondering if I could maybe...uh...join you for meditation. Maybe it'll help me unwind."

Teyla's eyebrows rose in surprise at the request.

"It's okay. Forget it. Bad idea. I -"

"You are welcome to join me, Rodney. I was merely taken aback for a moment. I was under the impression you did not feel you were suited to meditation practices."

"Well, no harm in trying, right?

"That is true," Teyla nodded in agreement.

"Great. So...um...lead the way."

********************

The meditation must have worked. Rodney recalled sitting on a floor-mat in Teyla's room and then...nothing. When he opened his eyes again, the sun was beginning to rise over Atlantis and stream in through the windows. Rodney rolled over with a groan. His back was stiff and aching. With surprise, Rodney noticed that he was still on the mat on Teyla's floor, now with an added pillow and blanket.

Rodney glanced at his watch. "Crap! I'm late," he exclaimed rather loudly.

Teyla's eyes flew open.

"Teyla. I'm sorry. I- I didn't mean to wake you. I'm just...I'm late." Rodney scrambled up off the floor. "I have to run. Thanks for-"

Teyla sat up in bed and glanced at her clock as her teammate rambled. "Rodney, it is only 5:45 in the morning."

"I know. I know. That only gives me fifteen minutes... Okay, maybe if I skip the shower and keep the same uniform on again, because I put the shirt back on the right way, I could make it... No time for coffee either, which probably isn't a bad thing considering yesterday..." Rodney muttered more to himself than Teyla as he ran from the room. He thought he heard Teyla call out to him, but he didn't have time to turn back.

********************

Lorne wrinkled his nose as he looked Rodney up and down. "If you're trying to emulate Sheppard's meticulously disheveled look, you missed it by a long shot."

"Huh?" Rodney's head was not aching so much as it was feeling like it was stuffed with wool.

"Change your uniform and shower before tomorrow's lesson, McKay. If we're spending an hour together in an enclosed space, you need to shower."

"I had a bath," Rodney protested with indignation.

"Yeah? Since you came to Pegasus?"

Rodney missed the barb because he was still trying to dredge up the memory of his last bath. He seemed to remember having one two or maybe it was three days ago.

"McKay!"

"What?"

"Focus. Pay attention to what you're doing right now. Pilots can't let their minds wander."

_Yeah, well, do you want to know what else pilots can't -_

"Pilots can't what?"

_Did I say that out loud?_ Rodney wondered. "Nothing. Nothing. Focusing on flying now."

At the end of the lesson, Lorne announced that he'd give Rodney one more day and, if there was no improvement, he was quitting as Rodney's instructor.

"Quitting's not one of the options when your life's on the line." Rodney repeated the bit of wisdom he'd gleaned from Ronon.

"My life's on the line every time I fly with you. Quitting might just save it," Lorne retorted.

********************

Grabbing a quick breakfast, Rodney headed to the lab where he found that the simulation program was now running smoothly. He sat back, grateful for the moment of respite. Despite the solid night of sleep and light breakfast, Rodney realized he was still tired and he felt kind of dizzy, too. He thought about going to the infirmary, but he'd been there a couple of times already this week for painkillers. Nobody turned up for medical attention for little things as much as he did. Maybe it was time to start toughing it out.

For Rodney, toughing it out as best he could meant heading back to his quarters and lying down for another nap...

********************

"McKay!"

"What?" Rodney woke with a start. He looked around his room, disoriented. He wasn't sure what day it was now. He wasn't sure what time it was or how long he had slept. Most concerning though, was that he didn't know why a large man with dreadlocks was looming over his bed.

"Wh-what are you doing here?" Rodney demanded.

"You didn't show up for target practice."

"Oh, shoot! Ha! No pun intended." Rodney laughed a little maniacally as he sat up.

Ronon frowned, looking Rodney over. "Are you okay?"

"Why does everybody keep asking me that?" Rodney swung his feet over the side of the bed and then stood up. Maybe he stood up a little too fast. The room seemed to tilt underneath his feet. Rodney swayed, trying to balance himself.

Ronon grabbed his teammate by the arm, steadying him and guiding him to sit back down on the bed. He saw no need to provide the self-evident answer to Rodney's question. "Wouldn't try that again in the next few minutes if I were you," Ronon advised.

Rodney nodded weakly and leaned forward over his knees, waiting for the dizziness to subside.

Ronon picked up a tray of food from Rodney's desk and brought it over to the bed.

"Where did that come from?" Rodney risked lifting his head a little to look over the offering.

"Cafeteria."

"How informative," Rodney grumbled.

"Sheppard said you needed to eat."

"Oh, he did, did he?"

"So, eat," Ronon commanded as he pulled a chair over to the bed and sat down.

"Are you just going to sit there watching me eat?"

"Pretty much."

"Did Sheppard tell you to sit and watch me eat, too?"

"No. He just said to make sure you ate." Ronon folded his arms. "Guess he left the method up to me."

"What if I don't eat?" Rodney challenged.

"I'll have to try another method."

Rodney gulped and started picking at his food. He ate in silence while Ronon continued to stare at him.

"Being stared at is not good for digestion, you know."

Ronon shrugged. "Sheppard didn't say I had to make sure you digested dinner. He only said I had to make sure you ate it."

"I'm eating, alright?"

Ronon watched until Rodney was about halfway through his meal. "I heard about Doranda."

"Did Sheppard tell you about that, too?"

"No. Heard some in the Gateroom when you and Doctor Weir were having it out. Heard the rest because everyone was talking about it."

"Great. Just great." Rodney shoved the try aside and lay down on his bed again. "I'm not hungry anymore."

"You messed up," said Ronon.

"Thank you for letting me know." Rodney's tone said he was clearly _not_ grateful.

"You're not gonna fix it by making another mess of things here."

"I'm not trying to make a mess of things. It's just...happening."

"If the same mess keeps happening, you're probably still making the same mistake."

"What mistake would that be?" Rodney crossed his arms.

"Don't know. Been working on fixing a mistake myself. I'll let you know if I figure it out." Ronon stood up and placed the tray of leftovers on the desk. "Get some more sleep. You look like you need it."

********************

It was dark when Rodney woke up. He struggled to recall why he was lying on his bed in his uniform again. One thing that was abundantly clear was that his head hurt was hurting - a lot. Rodney struggled to get up to see if he had any painkillers left but the effort of sitting up made the room spin wildly. Rodney swallowed, battling the reappearance of dinner, which never had digested. He felt awful. Maybe he really should have visited the infirmary earlier. With a sinking feeling, Rodney realized he'd made a wrong call yet again.

Rodney fumbled around on his bedside stand for his earpiece, thinking he might call the infirmary, but he couldn't find the device. He tried to recall where he had left it, but couldn't pull his thoughts together. Slowly and carefully he stood up, stumbled out of his room, and headed to the infirmary, keeping close to the wall for support.

In the transporter, Rodney stood for a long time studying the control panel. It suddenly looked very complicated and the markings seemed to swim before his eyes. It took two trips to incorrect locations before Rodney was able to reach his destination. By the time he reached the infirmary, Rodney had to clutch at the doorframe to keep from falling over as dark spots filled his vision.

Voices swirled around Rodney and people grabbed at his arms. He was glad someone was holding his arms to keep him upright because he knew he couldn't hold himself up any longer.

"Bad headache. D-dizzy. Feel sick," Rodney slurred before succumbing to the darkness.

********************

**Continue to Chapter Two...**

********************


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** **Truth in Action**  
**Author:** **tridget**

* * *

**Truth in Action**

**Chapter Two  
**

_Why do nurses interrupt a perfectly good rest to make sure you're doing okay? It makes no sense,_ Rodney grumbled to himself when he woke to find a nurse checking his vital signs.

The nurse had already moved on when Rodney thought to question why he was in the infirmary. He had a vague memory of standing in the infirmary doorway, feeling like crap, but not much beyond that. Rodney glanced at his watch. 5:40 a.m. He had a nagging feeling he was supposed to be somewhere. He dozed for a few minutes before it hit him – puddlejumper instruction, probably his last session. It would certainly be his last one if he didn't show up. Rodney swung his legs off the bed, noting with relief that the dizziness had lessened, although his head had a stuffed-with-cotton feeling. A tug on his arm as he tried to shuffle away from the bed informed Rodney that he had acquired an I.V. at some point. He couldn't think why. Probably he didn't need it. Since the nurse was no longer in the room, no one noticed when Rodney pulled it out. No one noticed when he changed back into his uniform, which was still lying tossed across a nearby chair. No one noticed when he headed off to the Jumper Bay.

********************

Lorne wasn't in the Jumper Bay. He and his team had to make an unscheduled off-world trip. However, Lorne left a note for Rodney about his absence. Rodney was unsure what to do next. He couldn't seem to pull together an alternate plan. Snippets of thoughts floated around in his head, vague and unsubstantial. He wandered into a jumper and sat down to think.

After a few minutes, it came to Rodney that he was supposed to be flying to the mainland. His anxiety level ratcheted up a few notches when he realized he was five minutes late in leaving. Being late wasn't good. He powered up the jumper and took off.

********************

Once he was in the air, confusion crept in again. Rodney couldn't recall why he was flying to the mainland. He pivoted on his seat to ask Sheppard about the mission, but discovered with a panic that there was no one in the jumper with him. His heart rate soared.

Rodney began to feel that the jumper was tilting and rolling from side to side. He tried dialing up the inertial dampeners, but that didn't seem to do the trick. A glance at the HUD told Rodney his course was about as straight as he usually flew, but it certainly didn't feel like it. He had thought motion sickness aboard a jumper was impossible, but he really wished he had some Dramamine with him now.

After a haphazard check of the main systems, Rodney concluded that the HUD was malfunctioning. He fought to correct his course, but couldn't stop the rolling motion. The more he corrected his course, the more erratic the flight path on the HUD became. The display now showed a rather dizzying path – just not the same one his vestibular system told him he was taking. He fought another wave of nausea as dark spots started to dance in front of his eyes again.

A voice called over the radio, startling Rodney. _"Jumper Four, this is Atlantis. Do you copy?"_

"Atlantis?" Rodney keyed the jumper's radio. Maybe someone on Atlantis would know what to do. "Mayday! Mayday! Mayday!" he yelled.

_"Jumper Four, what is the nature of the emergency?"_

Confusion washed over Rodney completely. "I-I don't know." He gripped the panel in front of him, perceiving the jumper to tilt and roll wildly again. His stomach lurched as he glanced around the ship. "I think...I think the pilot is missing."

********************

John had just finished showering and dressing after his morning run with Ronon when he hooked his radio around his ear. Immediately, it crackled to life with the kind of rapid-fire chatter from multiple sources that usually spelled imminent disaster. A tight knot formed in the pit of his stomach as he tapped his headset. "Sheppard here. What's happening?"

The control room responded instantly. _"Sir, we're tracking a jumper on a course for the mainland. The pilot appears to be experiencing difficulty with flight control."_

Sheppard was already out of his quarters and running down the hall by the time the message ended. "On my way."

********************

Sheppard skidded to a halt in the control room. A quick glance at the view screen showed an unstable flight path that seemed to consist of several corkscrew maneuvers.

"Who's in the jumper?" Sheppard demanded as he moved quickly to sit at one of the control consoles.

Chuck's fingers flew over his keyboard. "Not sure, sir. This is Major Lorne's usual morning flight."

"Lorne's off-world."

"Yes, sir."

"Then who-"

"We don't know, but the last transmission we received before contact was cut off said that the pilot was missing."

"Doctor McKay usually accompanies Major Lorne in the morning," another technician offered.

"What? Why were they-"

"Sir, I think we've reestablished contact."

"Jumper Four, this is Colonel Sheppard-"

_"Colonel? Thank God. I-I-I don't know what's wrong with the jumper. I keep dialing up the inertial dampeners and it's still spinning. It won't fly straight. And I thought you were supposed to be here, but then I remembered it was Lorne and...and I can't find him either. It's just me here and I'm not good at flying."_ McKay's voice, clearly panicked, was starting to slur. _"I don't feel good."_

"Get a rescue jumper with a medical team on standby," John ordered as a million and one questions about the situation flew through his mind. But he knew his sole focus had to be on the safety of the jumper and its occupant. The questions could be answered later. "Rodney, calm down. Listen to me. I'm going to help you. You have to follow my instructions."

_"Sh-Sheppard?"_ Rodney's voice was weak. _"I don't wanna fly this thing anymore."_

"Okay. That's okay, Rodney. You just have to hang in there a little while longer. I'm gonna help you through this."

"Sir, the medical team is on its way. Also the infirmary is reporting that Doctor McKay is missing."

Just then, Carson burst into the conversation.

_"Bloody hell. I just heard Rodney's out there in a jumper. He collapsed and was admitted to the infirmary just after __four a.m.__ suffering from hypoglycemia and exhaustion. He's likely to be confused and disoriented. I doubt he's in any condition to fly."_

John processed that information while his mind ran through various possible rescue scenarios. "If I can get him to turn around, can we bring him back on autopilot?" John asked Chuck.

"Negative. He's too far away now. He'd have to be closer to Atlantis. Even if he did fly back, there's a risk he'd hit one of the outlying structures before the autopilot kicked in."

The jumper dot careened across the view screen.

"McKay, listen to me. You have to focus on flying in a straight line."

_"I'm dizzy,"_ McKay moaned.

"I know that. Don't look at the HUD and try not to think about how the flight feels. Just think about a straight line-"

Carson interjected, a bit out of breath from his run to the Jumper Bay. _"I don't think he's going to stay conscious much longer. You have to get him down. And see if he has any food with him. He needs to eat something."_

John nodded grimly to himself. The rescue options were narrowing by the second.

"Rodney," John called out, "you need to eat. Do you have any food with you?"

_"I can't eat."_ Rodney breathed in short gasps. _"I feel sick... I... I... Oh, crap,"_ Rodney groaned.

The radio transmission from the jumper was shut off again.

"McKay? McKay, turn your radio back on!"

There was no response.

"Sir, there's a clearing here on the mainland that might make a...a suitable landing spot." Chuck was wise enough not to refer to the point on his map as a crash site. "It's near his current flight path."

John glanced at the map and began relaying information to the jumper's computer. "Is he still receiving our transmissions?"

"Yes."

"McKay, I know you can hear me. You're going to have to land the jumper. I'm going to talk you through the landing procedure." John forced himself to speak in a calm, steady manner. "We're transmitting the coordinates for a landing site now. I want you to focus on heading toward that location."

After a tense minute, the course of the jumper shifted slightly.

"That's good," John acknowledged. "But you're going to have to slow down and level off."

The radio transmission was turned on again. McKay's voice was hoarse now. _"That's too much to think all at once."_

"McKay, you're a genius. You can do it. Just focus for a little longer."

No response.

"McKay!"

_"What? What am I supposed to focus on?"_

John scrubbed his face with his hands for a second. "Rodney, slow down. Can you do that? Just slow down."

The jumper slowed somewhat but the flight wavered off course.

"Okay. That's slower. Now, focus again on the location we sent you."

_"What location? Where's Lorne? He's supposed to take over for the landings."_

"Lorne isn't here right now. You have to land the jumper."

_"I can't. My head hurts. I can't land a jumper."_

"Sir, the rescue team and medical personnel are now standing by in the Jumper Bay."

The jumper entered a steep descent.

John leaned over the console in the control room, his knuckles white where he gripped the panel. "McKay? McKay! Answer me, dammit!"

There was no response, but a look at the jumper's trajectory on the view screen told John all he needed to know. "McKay! Pull up! For God's sake, pull up!"

Then the dot of light that was the jumper hit the ground...and winked out.

For a second, John felt as though he'd slammed into the ground himself. Then he took off at a run for the Jumper Bay.

********************

Sometimes awareness comes back gradually. For Rodney, it came back in fits and starts, like a series of snapshots in time.

Excruciating pain.

The smell of fried circuitry.

The taste of blood.

A man's voice, breathless and cracking. "Oh, God, Rodney…" And another voice, stern and accented. "Colonel, move out of the way and let my team work."

Haziness. Floating.

Pain, again. And again. And…

Small, soft hands. They were warm when they held his hand and cool when they stroked his aching head.

Nausea. Sometimes unrelenting. Sometimes hitting intensely without warning. Moaning and retching and the acrid burn of bile.

A squeeze of his shoulder. A woman's voice. "Feel better soon, Rodney. We need you."

A faint scent of leather as someone snored loudly nearby.

The blinding flash of a light in his eyes.

A conversation, whispered and intense.

"Here, Colonel. I want you to take these."  
"I don't want them."  
"How much sleep have you had this week?"  
"I'm fine. I don't need them."  
"Aye, you do. I'll make it an order if I have to."

Insistent tapping on his cheek. "That's it. Come on, Rodney. I need you to wake up now. Open your eyes for a minute and then I'll let you go back to sleep."

********************

Questions. There were always questions. What was his name? Did he know where he was? For a while, they all blurred together.

"How are you feeling, lad?"

"B-bad. Hurtssss." Rodney licked his dry lips. The answer was all wrong. No one should speak in such brief sentences.

"I'll give you something for the pain in a minute."

"H-how 'bout n-now?"

"Patient as always, I see." Carson smiled. "Do you remember what happened?"

Rodney thought about it. Thinking made his head hurt more. "Mmmm...Doranda. Blew up." His felt his chest tighten with anxiety. "I was in th' explosion? Sh-Sheppard? Was he...?"

"It's alright, Rodney. Calm down. No, you weren't in the explosion. Colonel Sheppard is fine. You had a wee mishap with a jumper. No one else was hurt."

"D-damage?"

"I don't know. The jumper looked a bit dinged up to me, but not too bad."

"No. M-my brain. Damage?"

"Oh. You have a concussion, but there's no permanent injury."

Rodney sighed with relief as his eyes started to drift and close. "Tired."

"I know. You can go back to sleep, now." Carson patted him gently. "Your body still has a lot of healing to do."

********************

For once, Rodney couldn't wait to get out of the infirmary. His ribs were healing, he was getting physiotherapy for his arm and his head didn't ache so much. He'd been there long enough that he'd had his fill of being tended to all day, his fill of the good medication, and his fill of well-meaning visitors - especially the well-meaning visitors.

Lorne had stopped by. Standing stiffly, he offered his apologies. "Doctor Beckett tells me you probably weren't well even on our first flight lesson. I'm sorry."

Rodney debated whether he should accept the apology or be offended that Lorne would have believed him to be _that_ incompetent.

Teyla visited often. Rodney appreciated that she had so many soothing techniques to help manage the aches and pains as his body healed. At the same time, he'd heard more than he ever really would be interested in knowing about the day-to-day activities on Athos. And he never wanted to hear about another tava bean again.

Ronon was great at helping Rodney in and out of bed. He was really great at scaring the nurses off with a glare when they tried to interrupt Rodney's meal or naps to check his vital signs. He wasn't so good at providing any sort of mental stimulation. Conversation was minimal.

"How's it going, McKay?"  
"Terrible. Everything hurts and -"  
"Huh," Ronon would grunt. "That's too bad." Then he'd drop into a chair and sit with his feet on Rodney's bed.

Sheppard was there, too. He usually visited when Rodney was sleeping. Rodney would sometimes wake up at night and find him there. It was reassuring that Sheppard still dropped by, but he didn't know what to make of the fact that he visited at night. They hardly ever talked. Rodney thought it was strange that he could spend so much time with someone and still miss them.

********************

When Rodney was finally released from the infirmary, Ronon was there to escort him back to his room.

"How come you got this job?" Rodney asked.

"Sheppard told me to make sure you got to your quarters okay."

"Maybe I can get there by myself." Rodney wobbled a little and caught himself on the wall.

"Maybe it's doin' things by yourself that got you into trouble in the first place."

"Did Sheppard tell you to dispense clichéd wisdom along the way, too?"

"No. He left the-"

"I know. I know. He left the method up to you," Rodney mocked.

Ronon narrowed his eyes and made a scary, growling sound.

Rodney felt his knees go weak. He wasn't sure if it was from fear or the unaccustomed exertion after having been in the infirmary for so long. Probably both. He stopped and rested against the wall for a minute.

"Still wanna do this all by yourself?"

Rodney tried to glare at Ronon, but found it hard to lift his head up. He sighed in defeat. "Not really. No."

"Come on, then." Ronon slipped an arm around Rodney, supporting him for the rest of the walk back.

When they arrived at Rodney's quarters, Ronon guided him to his bed and helped lower him down with surprising gentleness until he was settled comfortably.

"Are you always going to do what Sheppard asks?" Rodney inquired, this time without a trace of mockery in his voice. "You don't strike me as the kind of guy who likes to follow orders."

"I'm not." Ronon pulled up chair near Rodney's bed. "I told you I'd made a mistake, too – a big one. Been trying to figure out where I went wrong and how to fix it."

"Did you figure it out?" Rodney relaxed into his pillows.

"I think so. I was used to being on my own for so long. I broke someone's trust by forgettin' I was part of a team now."

"So this," Rodney gestured to himself, "is your idea of being a team player?"

"Yeah. You got a problem with it?"

"No. You're doing fine."

"Fine?"

"Alright, good. You're doing good."

"Good?" Ronon raised an eyebrow.

"I don't go for superlatives." Rodney gave a reluctant huff. "Okay, very good. You're doing very good."

"Cool." Ronon grinned and propped his feet up on Rodney's bed, preparing to wait for his teammate to fall asleep.

"I broke Sheppard's trust." Rodney sighed deeply. "My fix-up didn't go so well."

"Don't think runnin' yourself into the ground trying to be good at everything was the way to go. You didn't mess up because you weren't good enough at what you do."

"What else is there to do?" Rodney asked, not sure he wanted to hear the answer. He was still tired and the thought of more effort ahead of him was overwhelming.

"Why _did_ you mess up?"

"If I could have just found a way to contain... No, that's not it. I screwed up because I thought I knew better than everyone else, better than the Ancients, better that Zelenka, and better than Sheppard and Weir. I'm a very arrogant man, in case you haven't figured that out."

"I figured that out."

Rodney wondered for a moment if he should be offended by that. "So what am I supposed to do?" he challenged.

"Listen to others sometimes."

"Oh... That's not one of my better skills."

"Same."

"How am I going to work on that?" Rodney almost whined. "It's not something I can ask someone to teach me – not that getting instruction was particularly successful." He yawned, feeling the need for more sleep tug at him insistently.

"You're listening to me now. That's a good start."

"Good?"

"Very good," Ronon rumbled.

"Cool." Rodney gave a small smile, feeling the weight begin to lift for the first time in many weeks. He closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

********************

"Just so you know," Ronon looked Rodney in the eye as they finished up breakfast in the cafeteria a few days later, "I trust you."

"You do? Really?" Rodney felt almost childishly pleased by that.

"Question is, do you trust yourself?"

"What kind of question is that? Of course I trust myself. I..." Rodney's eyes dropped to the table. "I don't know. I don't know anymore. I'm still the smartest man in two galaxies, but..." His shoulders sagged as he shook his head with regret. "I don't know anymore."

Ronon huffed. "Well, we won't figure that out sitting around here."

"What do you mean?" Rodney narrowed his eyes.

Ronon stood up. "There's more truth in action than in words. Follow me."

********************

"Aw, not the target range again," Rodney protested. "You know where that got me the last time. I'm through with training. For good."

"We're not training. This is your final test."

"Final test?" Rodney squeaked. "I'm not taking-"

Ronon pulled out his blaster.

"Okay. Fine. Fine." Rodney started backing up - for all the good that would do against a blaster. "You don't have to threaten me."

"I'm not threatening. I was gonna show you how to use it."

"This is a joke, right?" Rodney laughed nervously.

"No joke, McKay."

Rodney studied Ronon for a minute, realizing his seriousness.

"It's got two settings, kill..." Rodney jumped as Ronon flicked the switch to the most lethal setting. "...and stun." Ronon flipped the switch back. "You just aim...and fire." Ronon demonstrated, blasting a dinner-plate sized hole in the target figure.

Rodney gulped as Ronon handed the weapon to him. He hefted it gingerly. It was even heavier than it looked.

While Rodney got the feel of the weapon, Ronon walked around the table separating them from the target range.

"What are you doing? You're not supposed to be there!"

Ronon strode to the end of the range and stood between two target figures. "Go ahead."

"Are you nuts? Get out of the way first."

"No need. If you're accurate, I'll be fine."

"In case you haven't noticed, this thing blasts a huge hole and I mean huge. There's no margin for error."

"There's never a margin of error with any weapon when you're under attack. Now, shoot."

Rodney squinted, trying to focus his aim. The blaster shook visibly in his trembling hands.

"What are you waiting for?" Ronon called out.

Rodney took a deep breath and removed one hand from the weapon to wipe away the sweat dripping into his eyes. Then he re-gripped the blaster and aimed.

After a minute, Rodney lowered the weapon. "I can't. What if I end up stunning you or killing you, or...or worse? I'm not doing it." Rodney put the weapon down with finality.

Ronon ambled back.

"I guess that answers the question." Rodney's head drooped.

"Guess it does."

Rodney heaved a weary sigh. "I failed the test."

"Failed? You passed."

"How? How did I pass? I didn't even fire the weapon!"

"You don't have the skill to fire a blaster. You made a good decision not to."

"Oh." Rodney frowned, momentarily insulted. Then his eyes widened with realization. A small smile crossed his face.

"So maybe you can start thinking about trusting yourself again."

"But what if I _had_ fired? You could have been hurt."

"Knew you wouldn't."

"How could you possibly have known that?"

"I trust you."

Rodney smiled again, knowing that he was finally on the right track.

********************

_I shouldn't have opened the door without asking who it was._ Rodney's mouth went dry, seeing Sheppard in his doorway.

"Can I come in?"

"Um... Okay. Sure." Rodney squelched an immature desire to say 'no' as Sheppard had the night Collins died. He stepped back, allowing Sheppard to enter.

"How are you feeling?" Sheppard's tone was light.

"Okay. Carson says...uh...I'm almost healed." He had been going to say 'ready for light duty' but he was afraid Sheppard was here to tell him he was off duty – permanently.

"I need to talk to you," Sheppard stated.

"No, you don't. I've already figured out where I went wrong. Just cut to the bottom li-"

"Rodney, just listen for a minute."

"Oh. Listening. I can do that." Rodney sat down, folded his hands in his lap and pressed his lips together like an obedient schoolchild.

Sheppard tipped his head curiously as though surprised by Rodney's actions – and maybe a little doubtful. "I'm sorry it all went so wrong. I've been thinking about everything that happened. I've been thinking about it a lot. At first, I was angry with you for everything that went wrong."

Rodney opened his mouth to say something then snapped it shut again.

Sheppard paused for the interruption. His eyebrows rose slightly in surprise when it didn't happen. "I realized later that I was partly to blame for the mistakes, too."

Rodney jumped in. "Don't blame yourself for-" and then he stopped himself. "Sorry. Still listening."

"Okay." Sheppard wrinkled his forehead, beginning to look a bit unnerved by Rodney's attempts at attentiveness. He took a deep breath. "You're an outstanding scientist. I trust your abilities. But I shouldn't have expected you to be right all the time. I wanted you to be right because I wanted that ultimate power source as much as you did." Sheppard wandered over to the window, jammed his hands into his pockets and stared out over Atlantis as he continued. "And I wanted you to be right because, as a friend, I really wanted to see you pull this off. I shoved aside any doubts I had because of that. I didn't do my job as your team leader. I scared myself once I thought about it. It was a mistake and I'm sorry about that."

Once it was clear that Sheppard had stopped talking, Rodney responded, grasping even more awkwardly than usual for the right thing to say following the revelation. "You sound as if you've been talking to Heightmeyer."

Sheppard's head snapped around, faint colour rising in his face as he regarded Rodney.

_Damn, hit too close to home. He's been seeing Heightmeyer._ Maybe when you really listened to someone you could learn too much. Maybe you learned things you never really wanted to know. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to suggest that you...you needed... Sorry. I'll go back to listening." _Except, maybe I won't listen quite as carefully this time._

Sheppard shook his head. "It's okay. Sometimes an outside opinion can be helpful."

_I'm learning that, too,_ Rodney thought.

"I'm also sorry my words made you think you had to prove yourself."

Rodney sighed. "I really wanted to impress you."

"Impress me? Hell, Rodney, you do that every day."

"I do?" Rodney's voice rose in surprise. "You never mentioned that before."

"Why do you think you're on my team?"

"Huh," Rodney grunted. "I guess there _is_ more truth in action than in words."

"What?"

"I've been talking to someone too." _Actually, trying to listen a bit more than talk._

"So, we're good?" Sheppard asked.

"Very good."

"Well, see you at dinner then."

"See you at dinner," Rodney agreed.

********************

Rodney plunked his tray down on the table and joined his team. It was so familiar yet strange at the same time. They hadn't all been together for several weeks. The conversation was awkward at first. Silence was interspersed with moments in which everyone tried to talk at the same time. Eventually though, it settled into a normal rhythm, comfortable and soothing.

"So," said Sheppard, "I've been thinking we could use a little time as a team before heading out on our next mission in a couple of weeks."

"Oh, no," Rodney protested. "I was sent on a team-building encounter group once. None of the people who went and 'shared' would speak to one another for a week – and no one would speak to me for over a month."

"Not that kind of team activity." Sheppard grimaced, giving Rodney the impression he didn't think much of 'sharing' either.

"Good." Rodney slumped with relief – but only momentarily. "Not an experiential activity either." Rodney's eyes widened as he panicked at the idea. "You know the ones that are supposed to build trust; the ones where everyone stands in a circle with one person in the middle and that person is supposed to close their eyes and fall backwards and everyone will catch them?"

"Yeah…" A flicker of sympathy appeared in Sheppard's face, suggesting he knew how this story was going to end for Rodney.

"No one ever caught me. I think they moved out of the way on purpose. I even got a concussion once when I hit the floor."

"That does not seem like a useful activity to build trust." Teyla shook her head as she reached out and placed one hand gently on Rodney's arm. "Rest assured, Rodney, that we will never let you fall again."

Sheppard seemed to pale a bit at that remark. "Never again," he said softly, almost to himself.

Ronon looked around the room, scowling. His fingers twitched over his blaster. "Are any people from your groups here on Atlantis?" he growled.

"None, thankfully."

Ronon's arm moved slowly back to the table. "If we ever go to Earth together, point them out to me."

Rodney grinned, heartened by the thought of the Satedan at his side as he confronted his previous acquaintances.

Sheppard tried to continue. "What I actually had in mind was-"

"Wait," Rodney interrupted. "And none of those activities where – ow!" Rodney reached under the table and grabbed his shin which had just been kicked by his newfound protector.

_Listen_, Ronon mouthed at him.

_Right. Listening._ "Sorry. I'm done. Go on." Rodney smiled as he massaged his leg. His team would even protect him from himself if he let them.

********************

The entrance to the underground 'games lounge' was a long way from the gate. It was far enough away that Sheppard agreed to take a jumper. If it been closer, they would have had to walk and as far as Rodney was concerned, a trek of more than a few minutes across any type of terrain did not qualify as recreation.

Rodney glanced at his teammates and almost laughed out loud. They were dressed in ratty, ill-fitting, mismatched pieces of Atlantean uniforms. The clothing had been deemed 'beyond salvageable,' making it just right for the trip. Ronon had said they were to take nothing that they couldn't afford to lose and that included the clothing on their backs. Rodney really had to wonder about a vacation spot in which he was in danger of losing even the clothes off his back. It was a small comfort to know that Ronon was still carrying concealed weapons.

After parking the cloaked jumper, the team followed Ronon along a short, narrow trail to a spot that he claimed was within view of the entrance. All Rodney could actually see was a mass of thick shrubbery against the rocky face of the mountain.

"I guess the place does enough business just by word of mouth," Sheppard observed wryly. "They obviously don't need blinking neon signs and free-night-in–the-hotel giveaway packages to attract customers."

Ronon looked at Sheppard questioningly. "If too many people know about the place, they blow it up and relocate. Guess they don't do that on Earth, huh?"

"Uh, no." Sheppard shook his head.

"You've heard about those free giveaway packages, too?" Rodney asked, glancing at Sheppard.

Sheppard shrugged. "I got a coupon in the mail once."

Rodney threw up his arms in exasperation. "I never get one. Never. Everyone I know gets those offers in the mail except me. Of course I don't know that many people, but still..."

"You have to go to a casino first, and then you get invited back," Sheppard explained.

"Oh..." Rodney frowned. "You know, I have a great aunt in Toronto who gets invited to stay at Casino Rama almost every month."

"Every month?" Sheppard questioned. "She must bet a lot of money."

"I think she _loses_ a lot of money. I heard she mortgaged her house once to pay off her debts..." Rodney thought for a moment and then narrowed his eyes at Sheppard. "How much did you lose?"

"Not much." Sheppard ducked his head, suddenly absorbed in studying a ripped and frayed portion of his shirt.

Ronon interrupted the exchange, signaling them to be quiet. As per his earlier instructions, the team hung back while Ronon approached the shrubbery, located the well-camouflaged door and knocked. Following that, there appeared to be a heated exchange with much gesticulating between Ronon and a doorman. Rodney figured they were going to be evicted from the establishment before they even gained admission - which might not be a bad thing at all.

Shortly, Ronon returned to the group, grinning. "They're going to let us in."

"They'll let us in even after the argument?" Rodney asked.

"They'll let us in because I won the argument."

Rodney doubted the wisdom of entering a room full of patrons capable of intimidating their way in. Maybe he'd placed too much trust in his team's reassurances that they'd have a good time here. He sighed and trudged after his friends.

The cavern was dark, dank, noisy and somewhat overcrowded. Apart from the sloping rock walls and vaulted rock ceiling, it looked for all the world like what Rodney imagined an illegal, backroom gambling parlor would look like. Except it wasn't illegal in Pegasus. It was merely hidden from previous dissatisfied customers – and maybe from the odd Wraith looking for a snack. Rodney shuddered at the thought.

Once inside, Teyla exchanged the currency she had already obtained through a series of barters, for piles of dull grey pebbles. She assured her teammates that the stones were the appropriate tender for the parlor. She also provided her friends with instructions on what to drink and what not to drink at the bar, assuming they still wanted to be in possession of all their faculties at the end of the day.

"You've done this before, too, haven't you?" Sheppard asked.

"There have been times," Teyla admitted, "when the survival of the Athosian people was...enhanced...by high stakes bartering."

With that, Teyla headed off to check out the various games in progress. The rest of the team followed suit.

Teyla was the first to play a game. She chose something that resembled a child's board game on Earth. But there must have been a number of twists to the rules because even Rodney had a hard time following the play. He did catch on enough to know that Teyla was losing badly - and frequently. He opened his mouth to offer her advice but Ronon grabbed him by the arm.

"Don't say a word," Ronon hissed. "Remember the mistake I mentioned? Interfering got me into trouble in the first place."

Ronon seemed to be having trouble following his own advice. He wrapped his arms tightly around himself, looking as though he was barely holding himself back as he shifted from one foot to the other.

When Teyla finally stood up from the table, she had endured several losses. After some discussion regarding payment, she gave up a significant number of pebbles to purchase fizzy, green drinks for her opponents and their friends.

"You could have asked us for some advice," Rodney groused.

"I did not require any assistance."

"You just lost a dozen games." Rodney's voice was rising enough to attract the attention of other customers.

"Our opponents are now consuming their winnings." Teyla smiled as she spoke softly. "Within half an hour, they will be considerably less formidable and we may proceed with the games."

Ronon looked at her with admiration. "Good thing you're on our side."

The team milled about for about thirty minutes. It was a good thing it was so dark, Rodney noted. While their manner of dress fit right in with the crowd, he and his friends were considerably cleaner, less haggard and less battle-scarred than the rest of the customers. In brighter lighting, they would have stood out too much.

Sheppard played next on a board that looked like a cross between chess and a military strategy war-game. Although he learned the game rather quickly, he didn't win his first three rounds because he failed to gain enough territory. On the other hand, he didn't lose as many men as his opponents so he wasn't eliminated from the game either. At the start of the fourth round, only Sheppard and one other player possessed enough markers to remain in the game. Halfway through the round, Sheppard's opponent passed out due to the third swirling, green fizz generously supplied by Teyla. Sheppard won back all the pebbles Teyla had spent and a selection of assorted trinkets. Ronon grabbed the jeweled knife from Sheppard's winnings and concealed it so quickly that it seemed to vanish into thin air. Sheppard also won a few broken gadgets which pleased Rodney to no end because he could either repair them or backwards engineer a new one. At the very least they were good for spare parts. From the unconscious competitor, Teyla removed several sacks of a substance which she claimed tasted as good as coffee but was many times more potent. She suggested it would have excellent trade value on Atlantis among the staff.

While passing time until their next game, the team sampled drinks other than the green fizz, all of which were served in glasses that looked suspiciously unwashed – but it was hard to tell in the dark. The drinks tasted rather foul. Rodney said they were all going to end up in the infirmary with a Pegasus version of Montezuma's Revenge. For once, the team bowed to Rodney's anxiety over medical matters. The drinks went unfinished.

Finally, it was Ronon and Rodney's turn at a table which featured a game involving a deck of a couple of hundred paper-thin, wooden tiles and a collection of multi-sided, irregular shaped objects that vaguely resembled dice. For the two weeks prior to the trip, Ronon spent time each day teaching the game to Rodney using paper replicas of the playing pieces. The rules were complex and seemed to change with every roll of the dice. Ronon said was a 'traditional Satedan game.' Then again, he seemed to declare a number of things to be 'traditional Satedan.' Rodney told Carson that he'd know his concussion was healed on the day he could play the game without getting a headache. After watching the game for half an hour, Carson said even without a concussion the game would give anyone a headache.

Ronon and Rodney approached the table.

"Remember to keep your head down," Ronon instructed, "and keep your eyes on the tiles."

"Why do I have to keep my head down?"

"'Cause our opponents will be able to figure out everything we're gonna do just by looking at your face."

"I can maintain a very good poker face," Rodney declared. "Watch." He tried to school his features into a carefully neutral expression.

Ronon looked at him for a moment. "No, you can't."

"Okay, what am I thinking now?" Rodney challenged.

"Don't need to even see your face to know that. You're thinking you could play better by yourself. But you're wrong. We're better as a team."

Rodney gaped and spluttered for a moment before conceding the point. "Fine. Let's get the game started."

Ronon looked after rolling the dice and outlining possible ways of playing the cards based on the options presented by the roll. Rodney would never admit it, but he still hadn't grasped all the possible combinations and permutations of plays available. He suspected there was a component in the game that allowed players to make up some of the rules as they went along. He figured that was probably a well-kept Satedan secret. Rodney's job was to calculate the risks and benefits of the possible plays based on the cards they held and the cards their opponents held.

Ronon and Rodney won the first few games by a wide margin - an uncommonly wide margin, judging by the perturbed looks on the faces of the opponents. In between rounds, Ronon turned to Rodney and spoke in a low whisper. "Are you tracking the tiles?"

"Is that the same as counting cards?"

"Probably."

"So what if I am?"

"You can't do that." Ronon's tone was urgent.

"How can I _not_ do that? It just happens. I see them once and there they are in my head. I'm a genius, you know."

"Genius or not, it's not allowed."

"What's the penalty? They'll throw us out?"

"The penalty is death."

Since Ronon _did_ have a good poker face, Rodney couldn't tell whether he was in mortal danger now or not. "Okay. Here's the new plan. We'll lose a couple of matches so they don't get suspicious, then we'll go for a big win and get out of here."

"Sounds good to me." Ronon picked up the dice for the next round

They lost the next round by a narrow margin, requiring them to surrender only a few pebbles – and Sheppard's sneakers.

"I told you not to wear anything valuable," Ronon reminded him when Sheppard complained.

When they lost the round after that, their opponents looked considerably happier, much to Rodney's relief.

Then they went for the big win.

Their winnings started with a cart in which to put the rest of their prizes. Teyla bartered away a selection of useless items for all the coins they had originally brought in and then some. Sheppard obtained three lethal-looking handguns of some sort for himself and another couple of knives for Ronon's collection. He also obtained a pair of reasonably comfortable, slightly worn shoes which would do until he could get replacement sneakers. Rodney was offered a selection of plants, which he almost refused.

"Take them," Teyla whispered under her breath.

Ronon looked them over and grinned. "Aren't these plants used for-"

"Yes," Teyla said. "But we will not be using them for that. They have significant medicinal properties which I am sure will be of interest to Dr. Beckett and the botanists."

"Too bad," grumbled Ronon.

They were offered ten bottles of the green fizz. Sheppard shook his head doubtfully. "I don't think Elizabeth would be too happy to have this stuff circulating around Atlantis."

"We may need it to buy our way out of here in a few minutes," Teyla advised.

The green fizz went into the cart.

"We should keep a couple for ourselves," Ronon suggested.

After that came various items of jewelry, sacks of seed, and-

"Start moving toward the door," Sheppard urged in a low whisper.

Rodney scanned the room and saw several patrons moving toward the space between his team and the door.

The team started to back up. Teyla distributed bottles of green fizz as she went. Sheppard cracked the nearest patron across the jaw as the man reached out to grab him. Rodney smashed one of the potted plants across the head of another denizen who approached much too closely. Ronon pulled out his stunner and dropped a few more customers to the ground. Then the team took the cart and ran.

********************

"Now that," said Sheppard as he examined his new weapons, "was teamwork." His eyes gleamed. "And speaking of teamwork..." He gestured to the console in front of the pilot's seat. "It's your turn, Rodney."

"My turn for what? To fly?" Rodney squeaked. Oh, no. Thank you very much, but no. My days of flying are over."

"No, they're not. We might need you in an emergency some day." Sheppard got up out of the seat.

"Please don't make me do this," Rodney pleaded.

"Trust me." Sheppard smiled. "Here." He handed Rodney a data pad with something scribbled on it.

"What's this?" Rodney felt as if all the oxygen drained from the jumper as he sat tentatively in the pilot's seat.

"You tell me," Sheppard challenged.

Rodney frowned at the number and symbols in front of him. "It's an equation."

"A linear equation."

"Yes, but a very, very complex one." Rodney examined the data, still clearly puzzled. "What am I supposed to do with this?"

"That," said Sheppard "is your flight path."

Rodney studied the data again and smiled, feeling the remnants of the weight of the last few weeks fall away. And for the first time, he flew in a really straight line.

********************

**The End  
**

********************


End file.
